


The Good Part

by jdphoenix



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-28
Updated: 2015-01-28
Packaged: 2018-03-09 09:56:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3245372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdphoenix/pseuds/jdphoenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's someone in Jemma's apartment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Good Part

She's been in quarantine for two days thanks to some idiot lab tech who dropped a sample of a very virulent disease. The scare shook her up more than she'd like to admit given her history but after two days locked in a room with four other HYDRA scientists, she's happy to just be  _home_.

She's definitely glad it was her sent on this mission and not any of the others. The exposed scientists weren't even allowed access to their phones or their tablets or anything; she's fairly certain Skye would have died.

Thinking of Skye, Jemma should probably check in to make sure the team hasn't tried to contact her in the last two days. She pulls her phone out before hanging up her purse on its hook by the door. She was so eager to be out of the office that she didn't even bother to turn it back on. It lights up as it comes back to life and she drops it on the kitchen counter.

Her clothes were laundered during her confinement to ensure they carried no infectious material, leaving them stiff and itchy; she can't wait to be out of them. She tears her shirt and sweater off together and drops them to the floor right there. And then she sighs. The warm air feels like freedom against her bare skin.

She fiddles with the button of her skirt with one hand while with the other she taps open the message that's just been delivered to her phone. The words take a second reading to fully register and when they do, she's left frozen in shock.

_Ward escaped. Abandon everything. Meet at Evacuation Point C ASAP._

Dimly she registers that it was sent from an untraceable number, just like the only other message she was ever sent by Coulson: the confirmation that SHIELD did not attack the UN. As if Jemma needed it when she was on the team that built the weapons used. Still, it was the thought that counted.

Beneath her stilled hand, the button of her skirt slips the rest of the way through its hole. It startles her out of her shock, setting her brain into high speed so that several things shift abruptly into place. Like the fact that it was unseasonably warm the day she was exposed, causing her to turn her heat off, and today was a more typical autumn chill. And yet the air in her apartment is warm.

"Don't stop now," a low voice chuckles. "We're just getting to the good part."

Grant Ward emerges from the shadows of her bedroom. He looks different from the last time she saw him down in Vault D. He's shaved and cut his hair shorter than she's ever seen it. His new scars are hidden beneath long sleeves. His smile is wide and sharp as he examines her in return. Her exposed skin heats up as his eyes drag over her, coming slowly to her face.

"Surprised to see me?" he asks.

It's like the gunshot at the start of a race, spurring her into action. One moment her feet are glued to the tiles of her floor and the next she's flying towards him. He catches her by the hips, holding her skirt in place before it can slip down, and part of her hates how gentle he is. She lets her momentum carry her through into a kiss so forceful their teeth clang. He laughs and lifts her off the floor to carry her into the bedroom.

She slams her hand against the wall as they pass through the door and the lamps flare to life. She can't imagine taking her eyes off him for a second.

She rests her forehead against his, too relieved he's here to do more than stare into his eyes and run her hands through his shorn hair. She's spent so long worrying he wouldn't be able to manage it that she started to think she'd never be able to touch him like this again.

His plan to keep her safe through the uprising had been a huge gamble and one they both hoped there'd never be any real need for. She almost abandoned it when Hand questioned her loyalty, but she'd never actually been taken into HYDRA at that point; she had no proof of her loyalty to offer save the word of a specialist currently half a world away. And she  _trusted_  Grant. He said she'd be too valuable for HYDRA to kill and she believed him and it saved her life.

He eases her down slowly, letting her body slide down his so she can feel every inch of him. When he settles her on the edge of her bed, he kneels down in front of her, one hand cupped in her hair.

"You joined HYDRA," he says.

It's really not what she wants to talk about right now - in fact she doesn't want to  _talk_  at all - but he's been cooped up for months. If he wants conversation, she'll give it to him.

"Undercover. Coulson wanted someone and I-" The memory of those months in the Playground still hurts as badly as being there did. It steals her breath and twists in her veins.

"Wanted a way out?" Grant offers.

She turns away from his hand. Out of the corner of her eye she sees his smile fall.

"Jemma?"

"I couldn't stay. Not while you were- and while they all-" Every day she would look in on him via the vault's security feed. Every day she listened to her friends hate him. "I should've been able to save you."

"Hey," he says sternly. He forces her to look at him. "I knew exactly what I was doing. I told you we'd make it through and I'd make sure we were together again." He runs his fingers through her hair, playing with the new length. "Maybe I should thank Coulson for helping with that."

She doesn't think Coulson will appreciate it nearly as much as Grant does but finds it difficult to say so when his hand slides under her skirt. The muscles in her abdomen pull inward and she has to fight to keep from curling over him like this is her first time. It's been months since the uprising, months since they were last able to sneak any time together aboard the Bus. It's been too long.

She grips his shoulders and struggles to bring the breath up from her lungs. He smiles, watching her work at it while his fingers play beneath her knickers.

"You're not angry?" is somehow what she ends up saying. The thought that he might be flitted in and out of her brain so quickly she barely considered it before it found its way to her mouth. She doesn't think he is - he has a funny way of showing it if that's the case - but she did go against his plans when they'd never failed before. Even his own capture by the remains of SHIELD was planned for, spoken of in the dark shadows of the Bus's undercarriage while he did much the same thing he's doing now.

She's beginning to think it's a preference of his, to see how long she can maintain conversation before he renders her nonsensical.

He eases between her knees, sliding his hand lower and she lifts her weight slightly off the mattress to encourage him towards a more satisfying angle. She's certain he knows what he's doing when he holds where he is.

"Angry?" he asks. "That you got yourself out without even making them suspicious?"

He kisses her so that when he finally dips his finger inside her, he swallows her moan. She shifts closer, forcing him deeper, and pulls at his stiff jacket. He's wearing entirely too many clothes for her taste.

His smile becomes a frown against her mouth and he leans back against his heels. His unoccupied hand catches both of hers to press them firmly into her chest. The disappointment she feels mixes with the pangs of pleasure he's still eliciting from her, leaving her feeling upside-down.

"Grant," she says softly.

He forces a jaunty smile and comes up to kiss her again, but she can feel it's different. He's closed part of himself off from her. A second finger begins to join the first and, though it pains her deeply after so many months without him, she puts a hand to his chest, pushing him away before he can distract her. He moves without protest and when she scoots further onto the mattress, he obligingly pulls his hand from beneath her skirt.

He looks like a puppy she's kicked and while it hurts to see him like this, she finds some small relief that he's not hiding it from her too. Which leaves only the question of what he  _is_  hiding.

"Are  _you_  angry?" he asks, sounding like he's already preparing himself for her to answer in the affirmative.

She's always been a very smart woman, which likely has plenty to do with why their relationship works at all. Grant's not exactly an open book and anyone with less natural deductive skill than she has would likely go mad with frustration after only a few weeks. So it doesn't take her more than a minute to figure out what's going on.

He takes a deep, fortifying breath. "I thought you understood. I thought you knew why I was doing it. Jemma," he actually sounds pleading, "I thought it would  _float_."

She ignores this little speech because of course she understood why he was dropping her out of a plane and also because it has nothing to do with the actual issue. She takes his left hand between hers, twists it over to show his palm, and brings it up to her face. She can feel him relax at the silent show of acceptance, which leaves him unprepared to stop her when, at the last moment, she tugs down his sleeve cuff and presses a kiss not to his palm but to the ragged scar from his second suicide attempt. He goes still, like a wild animal unsure if it can make it to safety, and she holds him firmly in place.

"You knew what you were doing," she says, her breath falling over the scar. "You were … bringing us together again." It's half a question, a request for reassurance. All those months she watched him grow paler, watched him try to take his own life, listened to his repeated insistence that he'd only speak to  _Skye_. She won't say it didn't hurt, watching him fall apart and knowing he didn't want her, but she still has faith in him. She's alive and safe and he's here with her. That's all he ever promised her and he's delivered, even if it did take longer than she'd have liked. If he says it was all in service of the plan, all leading to this moment, she'll believe him.

He eases up onto his knees so he's more or less even with her. "I did," he says. "I was. It was always about getting back to you." He keeps eye contact the whole time he says it, willing her to believe him. It's not proof of his sincerity - he  _is_  a professional liar - but it's enough.

"Then you have nothing to be ashamed of." She grabs at his jacket again. He tenses under her hands. He doesn't move to stop her but he doesn't help either.

She uses his recalcitrance to pull herself forward on the mattress so her legs slide over his hips. She rests her forehead against his temple.

"I missed you," she says, " _so much_. Please don't hide from me."

Slowly his hands move over hers, pulling the jacket away himself. She saw the original wounds and has seen the scars through the grainy video feed, so she's not surprised by what she finds. She pulls his right arm, the one with the longest scar, into her lap.

"These are healing quite nicely," she says.

"Jemma," Grant sighs, but it's more fond than anything so she counts it as a win.

"I mean it. I'm not a surgeon, so I  _do_  worry, but you seem to have recovered well. Though it looks like you're in need of some further treatment, I'm afraid."

"What?" he asks, searching his forearm for signs of trouble.

"Oh yes. I'm surprised you didn't see it yourself. Right here for example-" She bends over his arm and kisses it at the wrist. "And here." She kisses again, slightly higher. "And here."

She manages to make it all the way up to his elbow before he lets out what can only be described as a growl of frustration and leaps up. Somehow he manages to get them both all the way onto the bed and begins pressing kisses along her throat. She tips her head back to allow him better access but doesn't let herself be deterred. She pulls at the bottom of his t-shirt and actually manages to get him to stop long enough to get it over his head. In retaliation, he undoes her bra and takes one of her nipples into his mouth.

She kicks out. It's not an attempt to be rid of him but an uncontrollable show of physical pleasure. He's used to it coming from her and gently twists her nipple between his teeth in an approximation of a smile.

He's got her wet all over again, the bastard, and if he doesn't deliver this time she might not forgive him.

Blindly, she reaches for the zipper of his jeans. He huffs, as if he'd like nothing more than to spend all day on her breasts. Which is an interesting prospect, she'll admit, but better saved for another day.

He eases back on his knees to undo the jeans himself.

"Skirt," he orders, sounding more like his old self again.

She tears off her knickers and stockings too, and in only a few seconds both of them are wonderfully naked. She lets her eyes trail over every inch of him and can feel him doing the same to her. She's relieved to see he's as ready as she is. As much as she'll enjoy being free to simply touch him everywhere, this is not the time for that. He eases down over her again, trailing one hand lightly from her hip, up along the side of her breast, and over her collarbone to cup her face.

He hesitates briefly then, poised like he's going to kiss her, but she can feel his true aim far lower.

"Grant Ward," she says sternly, "if you do not have sex with me right now I will shoot you."

His smile grows and he keeps his eyes on her while he presses himself between her thighs. She lifts her hips, providing him a better angle, and feels her blood go rushing like the tide. He's grinning down at her, so he must enjoy what he sees in her expression. He eases in, slow and agonizingly steady, so that she's biting her lip and curling up towards his chest. He keeps his hand firm, holding her in place so he can keep watching her face. She hates him. God, she hates him. She presses her head back into the pillows because it's all she  _can_  do but it does absolutely  _nothing_ to ease the pressure.

Finally he stops, which is at once a relief and a torment. She takes deep, gulping breaths and on one he eases back, turning it into a gasp.

"Missed me, you said?" he asks. He's actually wearing a teasing smile and she's struck by his stamina. Months he spent in that cell, under constant surveillance, and he's holding out while she's had freedom and privacy and she can barely hold it together a few minutes.

Not to be outdone, she reaches up. He won't let her come forward, but she manages to slide her hands up over his chest, which is somehow even firmer than she remembers after months in isolation. She moves slowly, almost casually up and down and up again over every inch she can reach, every time dipping lower and lower. And when she has nowhere lower to go without brushing against his half-exposed cock, she goes higher.

He moans in frustration, which is really only fair, she thinks.

"Yes," she says finally, ready to put them both out of their misery. "Every day."

He rocks deeper into her again and again, bringing his fingers up to tease her while he goes. She means to follow through on her own teasing but soon enough she's busy trying to keep enough sense to stop her head from slipping off her pillows and into the headboard. She loses herself completely in him and as the chemical reaction in her brain eases, she watches him finally let go. He's sweating from the strain of holding back and the relief on his face gives her a special kind of high built on feminine pride.

She really did miss him, almost so she couldn't bear it, but she knows now it was worth it - the months of fear and uncertainty, all the time spent hiding what they were to each other - because now that they're finally together like he always promised, she's never letting him go again.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this amazing and nsfw gifset](http://ilosttrackofthings.tumblr.com/post/103705912849/she-was-so-shy-till-i-drove-her-wild-i) that I've been dying to write something on for months. (Do you have any idea how much it hurt me to have him get rid of the beard? Do you?)


End file.
